Microsoft Word - THE LAST MAN ON EARTH - Raine Weaver.doc (16 page)

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

191

She blinked into the blackness. And, although she couldn’t see, she could hear. Beneath the sound of crackling ice and the labored breath of the dying storm, there was another noise.

Something was moving in the nearby bushes.

The brittle limbs bent, snapped, and parted before whatever was a part of that darkness, providing camouflage and betraying the presence at the same time. Iris’ eyes widened in sudden fear.

If Russell was trying to come through the back—who was lurking in the bush in front?

“Damn it!”

The gun exploded right next to her ear, but she quickly struck out, trying to ruin his aim. “Stop it! Stop!” she cried desperately.

“Don’t shoot. That damn screen isn’t worth killing anybody!”

Three.

“Are you stupid, or what?” he snarled. “Look!”

A small, green circle of neon light wafted in and out of the branches, disappearing, re-emerging, then leaving a ghostly tail like a tiny comet as it made its way toward the shed.

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

192

She could feel Milton’s heart thudding against her back as a new sound filled the air—the sound of horrid, heavy breathing and the deafening gnashing of grinding, carnivorous teeth.

“Shit. That ain’t Russell.” Milton backed away from the door, pulling her with him, his eyes shuttling back and forth between the back wall and the door. “That is not a human sound. And whatever it is, there’s more than one of ‘em.”

In the next moment he grabbed his head as an ear-splitting frequency, rising and falling in waves, sliced through the silence. Iris, released, dropped to her knees, too afraid now to run.

“Alright you sons o’ bitches!” Milton shouted frantically. “You want some? I’m comin’. I’m comin’ for you!!”

Without thinking, Iris stretched her long dancer’s leg out just as he was making his run for the door. Wincing at the sharp pain of his foot kicking her, she watched him fall face down, spread-eagled—and curled away as the force of his hand hitting the threshold pulled the trigger yet again.

Four.

With a wild, maniacal cry he charged through the door. Iris sat up again, squinting, listening intently, as he was swallowed by the
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

193

night. There, there she could still hear him running, raving in his fear, shrieking crude, useless threats…

There was a long, horrible moment of silence. Just a moment.

A moment before she heard his high-pitched, blood-curdling scream and the report of the last, echoing shot.

Five.

And all was silence again.

She sat on the floor of the shed. She had no idea how long she sat there before she slowly, painfully stood and began to inch toward the open door. She was cold and perspiring, her feet felt like pulp, and every nerve ending on the surface of her skin seemed to have exploded into awareness. But she was almost there, almost. Escape was just a few steps away…

A small, flaming finger of light shot out of the darkness before her and she jumped back, gasping for breath. She needed it. She needed it to fuel the gut-wrenching scream that issued from deep in her throat as the drawn, gray face with empty eyes appeared suddenly before her and slowly, ever so slowly, began peeling its head away.

*

*

*

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

194

“I am going to kill you.”

His face spread into a smile, and she waited very patiently as he tried to untie her wrists. There was no rush. She could throttle him now or later. It didn’t really matter.

“That was definitely a B-movie actress scream,” he murmured, laughing softly. “You’ve definitely missed your calling.”

“Did you enjoy doing this?” She could feel herself growing hot with anger. In another second or two, she’d burn right through the bonds herself. “I nearly pissed my pants, Russell Carr. And they’re the only pair I have! And what have you done to poor Milton? And how did you—”

“Milton and I had one thing in common.” With a sure twist of the end of the knot, he released her hands, kneeling before her as she massaged her wrists. “Neither of us wanted to see anybody get hurt.”

A lesser man would be gushing right now, eager to detail his own heroics.

Getting answers out of this one was like pulling teeth. “You seem to have come up with your own special-effects lab, Mr. Carr.

The little green fairy I saw floating outside?”

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

195

“Glow-in-the-dark watch.”

“The alien assault from the rear? Who was tearing at the door?”

“Your pooch. Insisted on following me.” He gently kissed her hand, and suddenly she was no longer cold. “Huddling in the bushes right now. Turns out he’s not gun shy, but Milton’s scream scared him all to hell.”

“And the flame that set me back on my ass was your lighter.”

“You’re catching on.”

“And this…” She paused, fingering the rubbery face-cover gathered like folds of flesh about his neck. “One of your old Halloween masks from the attic?”

“We should get back to the fire. Your fingertips are a little blue.”

He helped her back to her feet. “And the sounds?” she persisted. “How’d you manage that awful munching sound, that horrible breathing? It sounded as if the woods were alive!”

“Battery-powered karaoke set. Remember? You said it was useless.”

Iris sniffled. For some reason her nose became runny as she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh or cry. She struggled to
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

196

her feet, teetering dangerously. Her socks were freezing wet, sticking to her feet, and the right one was slightly bloody. “Well, I’m glad everything turned out so freaking well for everybody! Milton kidnaps me, ties me up, threatens me with a gun, gets off scott-free—and you get to keep your precious screen after all.”

“Would you have thought me more of a man if I just charged the door and got myself killed?”

“Of course not!” The thought of him being hurt made her angry at him all over again. “But that man could’ve blown me away while you were out playing Trick or Treat in the bushes!”

“He wasn’t going to hurt you. He wanted to keep living. You’ve got a nasty cut on that foot. May need stitches.”

“Come near me with a needle and I’ll sic my dog on you. You’re really going to let Milt go?”

“Nobody got seriously hurt here, Iris. And if he ever comes back or tries anything else, I’ll break him in half. He knows that. Milton doesn’t need any help to self-destruct. He’s not a bad person. Just makes bad choices. Guess we can all relate to that, can’t we?”

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

197

She refused to be soothed. Dammit, she’d been angry for two days now. How could he be so freaking understanding? “Well, as long as The Screen is safe,” she sniffed irritably.

Russell sighed. He looked rather worn, she noticed—and very weird with that ash-gray skin pouched around his neck. “I told you I did all this because I thought it was better than risking everybody getting hurt. You think I’d put that ‘thing’ before your safety?” She refused to look at him, refused to answer. “Then maybe you’re right.

Maybe we don’t know each other very well. Can you walk?”

“Of course I can—”

He whisked her effortlessly off her feet and into his massive arms, and for a brief second she nestled there, burying her face in the fragrance of him, tired of fighting.

Carrying her easily outside, he slipped and nearly fell after only three steps. But it wasn’t the ice this time. Something dark and very solid had crashed and jammed into the corner of the little shed, tripping him in the shadows. “Wait. Wait a minute,” she murmured.

“What is that?”

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

198

“That? That’s my sled,” he grunted. “I had to find a quick way to get here. Loaded the karaoke box on, grabbed the pup, hopped aboard—and swish.”

“But you’ve never said anything about having…you don’t own a…put me down,” she commanded tersely. Wincing slightly as her feet hit the ice again, she grabbed his lighter from his pocket, flicked on a gassy gush of flame, and bent over to examine the sled.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Her vision wavered behind tears as her fingers traced the dancing figures. “The Screen. It’s one panel of your screen. You took it apart to…to use as a sled to reach me? Oh, no, Russell, oh no,” she sobbed. “It’s ruined. The whole thing’s scraped and scarred and ruined. You’ll never be able to fix it.”

“Maybe I can.” He whistled for the pup, who cautiously joined them. “Or maybe I’ll make a new one, with different figures in different poses. You’re classically trained. You know that the dancers may change, but the dance is eternal. Gotta dance,” he grinned, leaning toward her, as if to pick her up again.

“No,” she murmured, stopping him. “I don’t want to be carried.”

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

199

He cursed beneath his breath, obviously frustrated. “Okay, then I can sit you on the panel and tie a rope to it and—”

“No. I don’t want to be pulled along like a child. And I don’t want to take every bump on my backside. And I don’t want to be dragged behind and have to look up at you. I don’t need to play catch-up. I can walk just fine on my own bloodied, battered two feet, thank you very much.”

“Yes.” She thought he sounded rather surprised. “Yeah, I guess you can.”

“But I’ll take a supportive arm, if you don’t mind.”

If he smiled in the darkness she couldn’t tell. But his arm was strong and firm around her waist. And although the ground was just as cold and hard, and they both slipped, even fell along the way, they made it safely back to the old gray house, waiting warm, silent, and ageless at the top of the hill.

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

200

C H A P T E R 1 4

“It’s your move.”

Iris hated chess. She always had. But there was something about games, any kind of game, that brought out her competitive side in a very ugly way.

At least it did help to fill the time. She couldn’t pretend to be interested in the remaining dinner, but she had agreed to the uncorking of the last bottle of very dry champagne.

The puppy, however, had been very well fed, and placed on a mound of cushions near the fire. When he sleepily shuffled down to the basement moments later, she started to retrieve him, but was discouraged by Russell.

“Either he has to take a dump, or he wants to be close to Momma. That blanket in the utility room has her scent. Leave him be. He’ll adjust to you gradually.”

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

201

However, that left her with nothing to do. Except, of course, the one thing she really wanted to do.

Have sex with him until she passed out cold.

She’d had him in hand, had come within inches of feeling him raw-red and tight inside of her. She could not look at him without recalling the raw hunger in his eyes as he’d backed her onto the bed, the hands that had claimed her, the way his mouth savored the taste of her skin.

And most of all, the feeling of him, hot and hard and nestled against her need. She could still feel him, and the pressure building inside of her as she stared at the board, remembering…

“Iris? I said it’s your move.”

She cut her eyes at him and swallowed a great gulp of champagne. Was it her imagination, or did the room seem to be warmer than before? “I don’t like this game.”

“You just don’t like it because you’re losing. Move.”

Well, wasn’t he Mr. I’m-in-control-of-my-hormones now? He looked a little too smug sitting there across from her—as if he could read her mind. Damn him.

THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

202

Three o’ clock in the morning, and the two of them still wide awake. The storm had ended. They’d actually seen stars on their trek home. She wondered whether they were both so eager to see the sun come up that they couldn’t sleep.

The icy ache in her feet had subsided with a soaking in warm water and Epsom salt, and the cut was not as bad as it had seemed.

An antibiotic cream, a gauze wrap, and two pair of his thickest woolen socks had managed to make her feel human again.

Maybe too human. She wanted him so much right now she could taste him.

The problem now, of course, was how to go about it. He’d seemed a little distant since their return to the house. Little wonder, considering the roller-coaster ride they’d been on. So what was she supposed to do? Jump up and say, “okay, Russ, I’ve changed my mind yet again, let’s see if you can get it up one more time just for me, hmmm?”

She tried to concentrate on the game. It was a beautiful board, one that he had made himself of marble and mahogany, with each figure hand-carved to resemble a unique, miniature totem pole. She nearly smiled at the sight of the queen, long and tall, with a firm,
THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

203

mounded bosom and distinct, knobby nipples. “I don’t want to play.

I’m bored.”

“Really? Okay. How about Yahtzee?”

“Puh-leeze.”

“A little Trivial Pursuit?”

“No more games. I’m tired of games.”

“Is that right?”

Grinning for all he was worth, Russell gathered up the chessboard and pieces and set them aside. She watched him walk, the clean pair of jeans fitting snugly beneath his soft, bulky sweater. It was, she thought dreamily, big enough for the two of them.

Russ returned to the dining table with an ashtray and cigarettes and emptied the rest of the champagne into their fluted glasses.

“Then maybe you’d like to try a different kind of game. A slightly more challenging game. Just a little something to pass the time—but with a harder, more intriguing edge. Hmmm?”